Actually Love - Jessie & Zach (2 page)

“I’ll have the balance to you by the end of the month.” Zach’s breath was visible as he stepped off the L train and into the cold, unforgiving November day. He zipped his hoodie up higher, wishing he would have grabbed his down jacket.

“All right, Mr. Courtland. But please be aware that this is the last time we can extend the payment.” The Avalon Manor Care Home accounts manager’s voice was short and clipped.

Zach suddenly felt like he was ten years old, sitting in the principal’s office, getting reprimanded for a fight on the playground.

Attempting to keep his tone light and friendly, Zach assured her, “I am aware of that, Mrs. Pratt. I appreciate your flexibility with this.”

There was a soft click indicating that the line had gone dead. He’d just gotten hung up on.
Real nice
. For the life of him, he didn’t understand why people chose to be in customer service when they clearly hated dealing with people, which was obviously the case with the ever-charming Mrs. Pratt. Zach lowered the phone from his ear and checked the time before shoving it in his pocket.

Damn. He only had ten minutes before the open house ended.

Taking the stairs by two, he was careful not to slip on the icy steel beneath the rubber soles of his running shoes as he navigated down the staircase. Reaching the cement sidewalk, he quickly rounded the corner from the L platform and looked up, checking the address on the greystone that sat on the corner of the street. Three eighty. He was close. The brownstone he was going to see was Three Twenty-A.

Hurrying along the street, he saw that, two buildings down, several college-aged, frat-looking guys were coming out of the only brownstone in a row of greystone and Victorian-style buildings.
Bingo
. That had to be the place.

As he approached the stoop in front of the house, which he now saw clearly displayed the numbers three, two, and zero, Zach was surprised that it looked even nicer than the digital photos that had been uploaded online. Not that it really mattered to Zach. If beggars couldn’t be choosers, then he was definitely not in the position to be choosy. They’d just significantly raised his rent on his studio. He had wanted to move for a while now to be closer to Gianni’s Gym and Avalon, but he hadn’t wanted to spend any more of his rapidly thinning savings. Now, he didn’t have a choice.

If he stayed where he was, he might not be able to afford to keep his mom at Avalon. And that was priority number one in his life. He’d been lucky to finally find a place she was happy in, and Zach would do anything to make sure that she got to stay there.

Which, at the moment, meant he had to keep his focus on his upcoming fight. All of his time and energy needed to be dedicated to training. But if it came down to it, he knew how to make good money
fast
. He didn’t like it, but he would do it.

Keeping his head down, he hoped that his hood covered most of his face as he passed the three frat boys on his way up to the house. There was more than a good chance that none of the young guys would recognize him. Since the rise of MMA’s popularity, old-school boxers held less of a draw. But with his
reputation
, he did seem to draw in a younger crowd, and he didn’t have time to engage in a meet and greet.

Luckily, they barely noticed him. All three were discussing how “sick” and “dope” the “pad” would be for parties.

Not if I can do anything about it
.

Zach reached for the door with a large A in the center and noticed three things. First, his hands were still taped. His sparring session had run overtime and he hadn’t even had time to shower. Hopefully, the fact that he was dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie (and might be smelling just a little ripe) didn’t hurt his chances to get this place. Second, the door was slightly ajar, meaning that The Three Stooges hadn’t bothered to close it all the way. Third, there was a doormat that read, in large letters, M&M.

Zach felt himself smile in amusement as he pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. As it shut behind him, Zach turned and stopped on a dime. Subconsciously, he must have prepared himself to be facing a shithole, which was not at all what he saw. This place was old, but it looked like it had been very well-maintained.

Off the entryway, there was a spacious front room painted in a muted shade of green that held sparse furnishings, which included a sofa in decent condition, a round table beside it, and a tall floor lamp with a cream lampshade. This wasn’t a dump at all—it was a home. Pulling out his phone, he double-checked the listing for how much this place was going to be renting for, thinking he must have read it wrong.

Nope. The price that was listed was actually that low. The next thought that came to Zach’s mind was that this must be the price for renting a
room,
not the entire house. Oh well. Even if that was the case, Zach had no problem renting a room. Sure, he liked his privacy as much as the next guy, but until he had the belt and the money to go along with it, he could make do.

The sound of clicking heels came from the top of the stairs, and he looked up. A girl who screamed ‘Daddy’s little pampered princess’ was talking on the phone about how much she
loved
the brownstone and how she still hadn’t been able to find the owner to put in an application but that “Daddy” said he’d take care of it. Then she also made note of her requirements for a live-in housekeeper-slash-chef. Whoever was on the other end was receiving quite the earful.

Great.
If there was one thing Zach knew about girls like
that
, it was that they always got their way. The frat boys hadn’t given him a moment of worry, but this girl could be a problem.

As she reached the bottom step, her large, blue eyes lifted and met his. He saw them dilate as a flush crept up her china-doll cheeks.

“Hi,” she spoke in a hoarse whisper.

Zach felt his shoulders tense. As a heterosexual male, he knew that he should appreciate this kind of blatant admiration from the opposite sex (especially when it came from a young, stacked, drop-dead gorgeous bleached-blond) but he didn’t. This kind of attention pissed him off, plain and simple.

He couldn’t count the amount of times that a girl had looked at him like he was the dangerous bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Since he’d hit puberty, that was pretty much how ninety-nine percent of all females had reacted to him. At first, he’d loved it. He had been a kid with barely any hair on his balls when he’d lost his virginity to a girl who was five years older than he was and a senior in high school. He’d been in seventh grade at the time. He’d ridden that bad-boy wave for years before he’d grown tired of surfing the same waters. Nowadays, there was nothing that made his dick go limp faster than seeing
that
look in a female’s eyes.

Maybe it was because since he was twelve he’d been receiving it. Maybe it was because he got so much attention that he could afford to be choosy. Maybe it was because ever since the day he exploited that response for cash, he never felt the same about it.

Zach nodded his head, acknowledging the daddy’s girl, as he moved towards the steps. He figured that, if she was coming downstairs, he would head upstairs. The last thing he wanted was to have to be cruel to this girl, but if he was even the slightest bit nice, the gesture was usually, severely misconstrued as showing interest. Not that being an ass worked all that well either. Half the time, that somehow made their panties even wetter.

“Are you the maintenance man?” she purred as he tried to maneuver around her. “Because I plan on taking this place and I already have a list of things that will need your…attention.” She rolled her shoulders back, sticking out ample cleavage as she bit her lower lip.

Zach had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from busting out laughing. This girl had obviously seen one too many bad pornos. He could hear the soundtrack playing in his head. Bow-chicka-bow-bow. How in the name of Muhammad Ali she had managed to say that with a straight face, he would never know, but he had to give her props for her attempt at seduction, no matter how comical it had been.

“No, I’m not,” Zach answered, feeling his lips turning up in amusement. Shaking his head slightly, he brushed past her and took the first step.

“Oh, well…I just thought that…” she stammered as she reached out, touching his arm. “You know, because you look so…
capable
…”

Deciding to use this pampered co-ed’s attention to his advantage, he turned and flashed a smile that he was sure would put her off-balance before he went in for the kill. The moment he saw her eyes soften, he landed the knockout punch.

“I’m the exterminator. This building has a huge issue with rats. This is the fourth time I’ve been out here this week. They’re little bitey fuckers too.” Zach held up his wrapped hands as evidence.

“What?” she shrieked, pulling back her hand so fast you’d think she’d touched a hot stove.

Zach moved his head up and down in confirmation before he leaned forward, whispering, “Why do you think the rent is so low?”

Her expression grew even more horrified as she shivered from head to toe, swiveling on her heels as she made a mad dash for the front door. Before she made it a foot, she had her phone to her ear, exclaiming, “Daddy, this place is disgusting. I am not going to live here!”

Talk about killing two birds with one stone. He’d not simply squashed her interest in the house, he’d been able to demolish any interest she had in him at the same time (bonus!). More than a little pleased with himself, Zach continued up the stairs to check the rest of the place out.

This house was
exactly
the right price in
exactly
the right location. Now, he had to somehow convince the landlord that he was
exactly
the right tenant.

A
nxiety was building inside of Jessie like a snowball picking up momentum in an avalanche. Where was the owner of this place? She’d seen the elderly woman when she’d first arrived talking to the frat boys who wanted to put in their applications. Now she couldn’t find her anywhere.

She wasn’t upstairs. She wasn’t in the kitchen or the front room. And she wasn’t in the basement Jessie was currently walking through.

Jessie was at a total loss. She had no idea where to look next. It was as if the entire house were deserted with the exception of the three girls Jessie had left upstairs who were making plans for what they would do when they rented this place. Which was not going to be how this played out…if Jessie could just find the
owner
.

A glance at her watch made the panic rise inside of her like a tsunami wave. The open house had officially ended as of two minutes ago. This was not at all how Jessie normally operated. She never left things until the last minute. Mainly because she hated feeling like she did right now.

Time was up. She needed to lock this place down. Jessie still had not put in her application. She hadn’t even spoken to the owner. And she couldn’t seem to locate the owner to remedy either of those situations. This was not good. Not good at all.

Her feet began moving faster beneath her as her growing dread propelled them at a rapid pace. Wrapping her fingers around the wood-planked railing that led up the staircase, she felt a sharp prick in her skin at the same time that light blinded her, pouring in as the basement door flew open. Sucking in a sharp breath as pain shot through her middle finger, she released her grasp of the railing, pulling her hand back.

“Shit,” she hissed as she looked down to see a significantly large splinter that had buried itself under the surface of her skin with only the tiny tip protruding out.

“Are you okay?” a baritone voice boomed, sending a thrill spreading through Jessie’s body like the first drink of ice-cold water on a hot day.

Jessie lifted her eyes to see a large, shadowed figure coming down the steps towards her. All she could see was the outline of his strong shoulders and arms. His height was impressive, and rays of sunlight were all around him. He moved with a graceful confidence. Somehow, just from the sound of his voice, the outline of his frame, and his purposeful movements, Jessie felt herself go weak in the knees.

Stop it,
she quickly reprimanded herself. She was so
not
a weak-in-the-knees girl.

Swallowing hard over a knot that had taken up residence in her throat in the last few seconds, she said, “I’m fine.” The second the weak words left her mouth, she wanted turn back the clock and suck them back in. Erase them from existence. Instead of sounding like the self-assured woman she was, her voice sounded as shaky as a love-sick schoolgirl.

What the hell is going on with me?!

Deciding to ignore both the man and her reaction to him, she peered down, focusing all of her attention on her finger that was stinging in pain. It was already swelling, and the skin surrounding it had begun to turn shades of white and red. She tried to grasp the tiny edge of the wooden plank that had embedded itself in the pad of her finger with her nails, but she couldn’t quite get a good hold on it.